Consequences
by outofthesun
Summary: Tormented by what transpired at the Misham trial, Klavier changes... probably not for the better. Ema's not so sure she likes this not-so-foppish fop. And his new prosecuting style? Questionable. One-shot. Klavier/Ema friendship, sort of, but you can interpret it as Klema. T for dark themes.


A hush descended over the room.

Klavier Gavin, ex-rock god extraordinaire, had cut his hair.

Gone was the elegant twisted drill; instead, it was cut short to just under his ears, the cut of seven years ago that had been forsaken for this supposedly more upmarket style. Yet now it was back, and Ema Skye had to admit that she liked him better for it. It made him look... more responsible? She couldn't believe she'd used that word to describe him - but it was true. Klavier Gavin now appeared serious in his simple white dress shirt and grey suit trousers. No purple, no Gavinners 'bling' - he'd gone so far as to take his earring out, too. Currently he was quietly talking to a forensic scientist in one corner (a female one at that), with no flirting, no loop hole leaning, just... having a business conversation. A month's leave had transformed him entirely.

It was all very strange, but Ema thought she knew why.

Grief made people do strange things.

It was two days before another case was announced for the new not-so foppy prosecutor and his favourite detective, and as she'd suspected, he'd called her to his office so they could work out a game plan. This was unchanged from before. The room, however, was not. The massive speaker was gone, replaced by a very unobtrusive mp3 player on his new desk. The screens had stayed, as did the chair, but the wall didn't have any guitars on it. He'd hung his law school certificate and his work contract up. Other than that, it was bare - no photos of the band, no jewellery, no platinum singles. The room no longer said 'Klavier Gavin' to her - it could have passed for belonging to a whole other person.

He was wearing a pale blue dress shirt this time, and it suited him, with some black trousers. Very understated, and yet, horribly, it made her worry. She'd been stood in the room for over a minute and he hadn't even acknowledged her or perhaps even noticed she was there - the ex-fop was still sat at the classy desk, reading the same file with uncharacteristic focus.

Ema coughed loudly to indicate her presence and he looked up, startled, relaxing when he saw her frowning face.

"Ah, Detective Skye." Where was the 'Fräulein'?! Where was the German?! This was wrong! "Have a seat." Biting her lip, she sat down next to him. "Well, in short, I don't think this woman committed the murder. One look at her face told me sufficiently this morning when I went to interrogate her."

"Could she have been acting?" Ema asked, twirling a strand of brown hair around her finger. "I mean, her fingerprints are on the weapon clear as day. It's definitely enough to build a case, and she's smart, too. Enough to manipulate people."

"I don't think she was acting. The detention center guard told me she sat up all last night, not even crying, just sat there looking at the camera with this horrible look on her face." he looked distant. "Still, I have to do my job. I've asked Mr. Justice to defend her, though, so she'll get off." he rose from the chair and started pacing. "Question is whether or not I should prosecute or give it to someone else. Someone who can fight the case with proper conviction." Scarily, his expression fell. "Not me. I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Klavier Gavin, you stop this right now!" Ema stood up so suddenly the chair toppled over behind her, but she ignored it, fury all over her face as sudden as anything. "Stop having this little pity party! You. Are. A. Prosecutor." she growled, going closer to him than she'd ever been and not particularly liking it. "And do you know what that means? It's not about believing that someone is guilty so blindly that you refuse to see the truth! You fight to find the truth - you know, finding, um, 'Herr Forehead's errors', as you call them, in order to get the whole picture. Remember that guy? The one who annoyed the hell out of me by calling me 'Fräulein' all day and whose glimmerous jewellery got in my eyes? That guy knew!" Ema was practically shouting at him now. "This guy - I don't know him. I don't want to know him!"

"What else can I do?" he said, voice flat. "My brother is a disgrace; I trusted him. Every time I stand in the courtroom my mind thinks of nothing but his laughter, his crimes. And then I think of prosecutors - we, who have sent the innocent to their deaths, figurative or literal, because of pride, or worse, ignorance. I cannot be a prosecutor anymore - think of what I did to Mr. Wright!" He turned to her, and Ema actually saw tears in his eyes. "I destroyed his livelihood, I had the indecency to believe in Kristoph without thinking before it was too late. And look at them, and poor Trucy. Living in fear of finding next month's rent." Klavier shook his head. "I can't be that man anymore."

"Have you spoken to Mr. Wright?" Ema asked, tentatively putting a hand on his shoulder. "I mean, you went to speak to Vera Misham, right? Couldn't you do the same for him?" Ema paused. "Mr. Wright is a very forgiving man, and what's more, he knows all about Kristoph and his victims, which include you. I don't think he would resent you for what transpired at the Enigmar trial."

"I think we should postpone this meeting," Turning away from her, the guitar player looked out of the window, his tone devoid of any emotion. "I'll call for you when I'm... more composed. Thank you, Detective." It was the bluntest dismissal she'd ever heard him give. Her mouth opened and closed, but in the end she turned around herself, glanced back at him once, and then walked out of the door.

* * *

The walk to the Detention Center had taken a while, but the cold, fresh air on his face had allowed Klavier to think more clearly. He had brushed Ema's words away as something said to try and make him feel better, but one thing she'd said had stuck with him.

It was true. He was just a ghost of his former self.

Opening the door and nodding in acknowledgement to the guard, he walked up to the desk, trying to ignore the bleakness of the place.

"I'm here to question Miss Katherine Grey," he said. "Prosecutor Gavin." Filled with the insatiable need to know if his instincts were right, he was here again in the space of twenty four hours. The man nodded and directed him down the hall to the interrogation room where he would wait for her to be brought in. Within a couple of minutes, she was there, face the colour of her namesake, black hair still impeccably pinned up but her hands shaking with apparent fear. With a gesture he motioned for the guards to step outside and this they did. Grabbing the file and pretending to read it, he then set it down and turned on the recorder. Her face, if it was possible, went paler. He reported her name and occupation - a medical student - for the tape, and then started.

"You say you're innocent. Do you have any proof?" Just as with the detective, his voice was flat. He didn't have any emotions left any more.

"No. I d-don't. But I was framed, I..." she didn't appear to have enough nerve to look at him. He didn't blame her. He couldn't look at himself.

"Don't speculate." he cut her off harshly. "You killed your father for his money."

"I didn't!" she sobbed. "I loved my father, how could I have killed him? It was... it was..."

"I'm not interested," he told her. "I'm here to get a confession and nothing else." Her lip trembled. Like Vera, she was only nineteen. Vera... he'd thought her guilty, too. His logic had overruled any instinct he'd felt, ignored any sort of sympathy that had bled through. He'd been filled with this uncontrollable want to avoid further shame, against all of his better intentions - Kristoph would not put another stain on their name. And yet he had, too. Apparently the truth would always come out, in the end. But it did nothing to reassure him.

"You'll be here a long t-time." Biting her lip, a faint sort of resolve flickered weakly on her face. "I didn't do it. I know I didn't." Klavier stared at the student, so different from Stickler in every sense, and pretended to read the file again so he could collect his thoughts, but it was her who spoke to end the silence. "...They said you were fair. They said you weren't corrupt, that you would listen... I don't understand, Mr. Gavin." Something akin to horror made itself known on his face, and the ghost stood up.

"...Goodbye, Miss Grey. I'll see you at the trial."

* * *

"Kathy, I'm so happy for you!" Trucy Wright, magician, was practically bouncing on her feet from excitement. "I thought we were goners, but your testimony really turned things around." The future doctor smiled, looking pensive.

"I was surprised Prosecutor Gavin let me testify," Shrugging, Grey looked in thought. "He was... quite harsh on me in questioning."

"Really?" Trucy appeared confused. "He's not usually mean to defendants, except for that one time with Wocky." She bit her lip. "But, wait... he was different today, wasn't he, Polly? The hair, the clothes. He didn't help us like he normally does, and he was a bit mean to Kathy when she testified."

"Well, maybe the Chief told him not to," Apollo pondered. "I mean, he was a bit free with information. Prosecutors aren't usually like Mr. Gavin." Trucy pouted, and smirked. "You're lying, Polly! You've made up your mind." Apollo's expression sobered as his thoughts drifted back to that trial...

"I think it was because of the consequences."

* * *

**A/N: Kind of rubbish and written quite quickly. I think that Klavier would have been affected by Kristoph's death and this might be the manifestation. Seriously, scarred!Klavier is the only one I can write, but I missed putting 'ja' and other German in there as I speak it :L **

**Please read and review! I'm always open to constructive criticism.**


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